


Jared Plain and Tall

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Online Dating, Farmer Misha, Llamas, Love at First Sight, M/M, Teacher Jared, True Love, llama farmer Misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 05:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16130174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This was written for a prompt asking for Jared to meet someone on Farmersonly.com.Jared goes looking for love on-line, having a lonely life in isolated, small town Texas. He finds a Missouri alpaca/llama/sheep farmer who intrigues him then ends up changing his whole life.





	Jared Plain and Tall

Jared had been browsing farmersonly.com for months now, never quite finding that spark of interest when he read the many, many profiles. He'd even gone out on a few dates with ranchers in his area- Texas. No one had ever clicked. He'd even gone out on a second date with a ranch hand named Stephen, but his offers for a third had all been ignored, his texts and voicemail never returned.

He was in Marfa now, the first teaching position he'd been offered, and he was still kind of stuck here, five years later. He'd applied to plenty of jobs in Austin, San Antonio, Galveston, even Dallas and Houston, but never heard back. He was far from his family, far from anywhere, and more than anything, far, far from a large pool of potential dates. He wasn't exactly a farmer himself, but he figured that Marfa was a small enough town to more than qualify him. 

He scanned the profile listings again, hoping he'd see something new, realizing that the profiles were of the same, small handful of gay men who lived within two hundred miles of here and had decided to search of love or at least companionship, on this dating site. He'd dated about five of them and already dismissed the others as completely incompatible for reasons of religion or politics. He had old fashioned values. They were just good old-fashioned Democratic values.

This was his twelfth Saturday night in a row without a date, not counting Cindy's offer to include in him the girls' night out with the other teachers from Lady Bird Johnson Elementary. He was lonely, but he was not that lonely yet. The teachers, all of them women except him, tended to get a bit...punchy as the school year was drawing to the end. The last thing he wanted to do was be dragged out by the girls, who counted him as one of them, and watch them get stupid drunk on cosmos.

He had to do something, make some kind of change. Not only had he come up snake eyes with all the men on the dating site, he'd struck out with literally every man who walked into the one and only gay bar in the county. He knew he wasn't terribly good looking, but he wasn't hideous either. He was just plain and perhaps acted a bit goofy and awkward at times. 

Of course, he could drive to Odessa or Midland. There were more gay bars there. But even if he did, the gay bar scene and one night stands weren't for him. He'd had more luck in college, always could find someone to hook up with, but he'd never met that special someone to spend his life with. That was what he wanted.

Just for the hell of it, not that he ever planned to leave Texas, he changed his search criteria, picking another state, more or less at random. Missouri, because his mom had tried to get him to join the family vacation to Branson and had tempted him with pictures of verdant, green forests, river rafting down silken smooth mirrored streams, red bluffs and deep blue skies with puffy cotton candy clouds. 

He clicked on a profile, more or less at random, and was greeted by a picture, not of a chisel jawed farmer, but of a ill tempered looking creature that could only be the bastard child of a rabbit and a camel. It was white, with a big mop of white hair on its head, big, ivory teeth like a horse, and curved, perky ears. After a moment of surprise, Jared just shrugged, then laughed. You weren't supposed to, but a lot of people, especially the plain ones like him, put a profile photo of something else up- like their favorite horse or a good view of their spread. He'd left the space in his profile for a photo blank. Jared read the introductory paragraph of the profile. 

"This is Sam, prize winning stud and sire on my llama farm deep in the heart of the Missouri Ozarks. Also, my best friend and only source of adult conversation most days, which says more about me that I probably should on one of these dating sites. My twelve year old daughter says I definitely shouldn't open with a picture of a llama, that I'm 'cute' enough to post my picture in public on the internet and that none of the 'boys' will be interested if I do that. But as I'm not interested in finding a boy, but a man, I think it should be fine. 

"I suppose if I'm honest, and if you can't be honest to anonymous strangers on the internet, when can you be, I'm looking for someone, not to date, but to share my life with. Right now, it's shared with over a hundred llamas, alpacas, sheep, goats and other assorted creatures, not counting the chickens, which I hate, but which the daughter insists on and the miniature pig that I pretend to hate, but secretly adore, who is very definitely pet and even more definitely not future bacon. I'm looking for someone who is willing to co-parent my two brilliant (I am, of course, completely objective about that) children. Someone who's looking to make a change in their life and discover it anew with me on my three hundred acres of mixed pasture and forest. I'm looking to get married again. I hate to be negative right at the start, but if you aren't marriage minded yourself, I haven't got time for you right now. 

"When you respond, don't send a picture of yourself, as I haven't shown you mine yet. Instead, send me a picture you think might make me laugh."

Jared quickly skimmed over the rest of the profile information, the compatibility factors and such and they seemed to match up pretty well with his, but then, he'd gone on a bunch of dud dates with guys who on paper were perfectly compatible with him. It didn't matter. He was hooked from the first paragraph. He wondered, what would make this guy laugh? He searched on the internet for a while for funny llama pictures, before looking over at Harley. 

The big lunk of a dog was sleeping on his back on the tile floor of Jared's apartment, legs spread out, tongue lolling to the side of his big, dark muzzle, eyes sort of open, but rolled up so that you could only see the bottom of the whites. He took his phone and snapped a quick picture before Harley could wake up. 

"This is my dog Harley" he wrote back to the llama farmer in Missouri. "Sadie, the other one is far too much of a lady to loll about like this. I'm a fourth grade teacher in small town Texas, but I'm looking to make a change. I'm plain and tall. My parents both moved away to the city from their parents' ranches, but I spent summers out on my grandparent's ranches and I know about the hard work of running one. I'm not afraid of it either. I can ride a horse, muck out a barn, kill a chicken for dinner, butcher it up and cook it myself. I'm looking to get married as well. Please write me back and we can discover if that might be to each other."

***

Jared slept late, for him at least, until seven. He grabbed some water and then got on the tread mill. Even though it was still cool enough to run outside, he just never could get a good run in, especially not on the weekends. People just kept stopping and offering him rides back into town and took it as unneighborly when he refused. Harley and Sadie, lazy bones that they were, slept the sleep of the just in their dog beds while he finished. Then, his serious running done, he nudged them awake and took them on a brief jog around town, for their exercise, not his. 

A quick shower later and he was settled down at his lap top to check for messages from his Missouri farmer. He was unwarrantedly excited to find one waiting for him, from much earlier this morning. Of course, the farmer would have been up for hours already with his farm work. And animals didn't take the weekend off either. 

"Your dog looks like a handsome fellow. The one kind of creature we don't have around the farm is a dog. The llamas have always been enough protection for the flocks. I've found two dead coyotes in the pasture just this year alone. However, I'm sure with as many different animals as we already have, a place could be found for canine companionship. 

"Should you join me here that is. I should not assume these things. Just out of curiosity, how do you feel about biodynamics?"

A few minutes later, he'd shot off an answer, "I'm not sure. Both my grandparents' ranches were very traditional cattle ranches, of the style before feed lots and factory farming became the only way to go, before Earl Butz said get big or get out. Both my grandfathers actually practiced organic farming before it was called organic, but if you'd told them that's what they were doing, they probably would have taken it the same way they would have if you told them they were Communists. Organics, sure, I can get behind that, but biodynamics seem a little out there."

Then Jared grabbed some coffee and got on with grading twenty five essays, all written in preparation for the standardized test his students would be taking soon. So much of the year, wasted, preparing for that stupid, meaningless test. If he'd known just how much, he never would have gone into teaching. 

By the time Jared looked up from all his grading, it was dark again and the dogs were whining to go out. That handled and his own grumbling stomach taken care of, he checked the laptop again. Not that he expected a message already, but you never knew. 

"Don't worry, it's just a passing fancy of mine," the message that was waiting for him said. "I'm not actually fully organic yet, still transitional. I'm working towards certification and hope to have it soon. Tell me about a day teaching at your school."

***

Misha Collins, that was the name of his Missouri llama farmer and the farm was called Winchester Acres. Through the month of May and into June, he and Misha emailed each other, back and forth, constantly, the speed of email hardly able to keep up with them. They slowly fell in love with each other that way, almost like people used to by mail, with their words alone. They still hadn't exchanged pictures, but that almost didn't matter. Jared thought about how once, this would have been called making love, and how wasn't that they were doing, bring it into existence from mere words. There were long emails that greeted him in the morning, short missives usually waiting for him at lunch time, then three or so shot back and fourth over the evening. 

They never said anything about love or relationships. They just wrote their lives. Jared hungered for each email. When he didn't have a new one, he yearned for the feeling they brought out in him, like he was wrapped in the golden light of the summer days Misha wrote about.

"it was one of those flat, hot days. I could almost feel the barometric pressure," Misha would write. "And I knew that it would storm that evening. It was a panic, getting all the animals and humans into shelter. In the end, the twister touched down a county away, but they move fast. It could have torn through here with only minutes of warning."

"My students have started with their week of testing," Jared wrote. "And as I proctor the tests, I can't help but think how I wish I could just teach and not teach to something so standardized, that it only frustrates and stymies the not ready and dulls down my brightest students. I wish my students could learn for the love of it and not to be prepared or to measure up to a mark set by someone else, in an office far away." 

"A stream runs through our acres and there's a little waterfall, no more than two feet tall, then downstream a bit, another little waterfall," Misha wrote. "In between, there's this small, shallow pool about ten feet across. It's not really big enough for anything except to dangle your feet in on a hot day. In the spring, the toads or frogs or whatever it is, lay their eggs in it and we have tadpoles."

"The days here are already so hot that you understand viscerally the phrase white hot," Jared wrote. "Being Texas born and bred, I'm used to it, but I'm also from hill country and compared to where I'm from, it's so dry and dusty here. I look at pictures of where you're from and I can't help but think it must be like paradise."

"Hardly paradise," Misha wrote back. "But perhaps as good as it gets here on this earth. I wasn't always a llama farmer, but one time my wife and I came for a vacation here and I never left. No, she didn't divorce me because she suddenly found herself, a city girl, as part owner of a farm in the middle of nowhere, but that was part of it. As for myself, it was like coming home."

"I'm sitting here, staring at my contract for next year," Jared wrote. "I still have a little time before I have to turn it in, signed, and commit myself for another year. I'm not sure what I want. The school year is almost over, just days left, and the kids and myself, all feel a little squirmy and ready to get out. And I don't know if what I feel is just the normal end of the year wiggles or if this is more than that. Every year for the last five years, I've said to myself that it was time to get out of Marfa and I never have."

Then, after weeks of this, of dozens and dozens of emails, came the one that caused his heart to leap, both in joy, and into his throat with worry. 

"Before you make any decisions that would commit you to remain in another state for the whole year, why don't you come visit? I'm sorry that myself visiting you just isn't practical at this time. You understand that I can't just leave the animals, that organizing someone to come care for them all is quite the endeavor. But I think it's more than time that we meet."

"We haven't even exchanged pictures yet," Jared wrote back. "Pictures of ourselves, that is. Or spoken on the phone."

"To quote the pop song, 'Call Me Maybe,'" Misha wrote back. The rest of the brief email was just a phone number.

***

Jared stared at the email. He was sitting in the teachers' lounge, enjoying a brief prep period made possible by a weekly art lesson. That was the one good thing about teaching in Marfa versus any other small Texas town. As unlikely as it seemed, Marfa had a thriving art scene and a couple of foundations that, among other things, supported art education in local schools. Donald Judd had made Marfa his home and brought the modern art world with him. 

Misha had given his number. He could just put the numbers into his phone and see what the man who'd caught his imagination was really like. He'd been invited to come meet the man in person. It was a good time too, it would be the end of the school really soon. He'd be free for weeks and weeks. Other years, he'd already arranged a summer job for himself, to fill the time, but this year, he hadn't been able to make himself go out and get that summer job. 

He punched the numbers into his phone and pressed the send button, then waited. It rang, and again, then, just as Jared was sure he would be dumped into voice mail, it picked up. 

"Hello?" 

"Is this Misha? Misha Collins?" Jared asked. "This is Jared."

There was a rumble that didn't sound human, then as if it was on speakerphone, Jared heard distantly, "Sam! Hold on Jared, I've got to get this fence. We've got llama drama again."

There was a clatter that was obviously the phone being dropped, probably into some pasture. He heard voices shouting at each other, a man's voice and two children. Then eventually, the phone was picked up and a voice that was somehow both light and rough, yet still melodic for all of that, said, "Sorry about that. Sam is being a bit stroppy today. We're shearing him today. Most of them don't mind it, but he has definite opinions about it. So, Jared, at last."

"Misha," Jared said, hoping it wasn't too obvious in his voice just how besotted he was. That voice. It was like nothing he'd ever heard before. It seemed to settle at the base of his spine and yet lift through the top of his head. He hadn't been so nervous since he'd been a kid with a crush. Was that all this was? A crush? On someone who was still more or less a stranger? And yet the calm he felt all through his middle made it feel like something so much more. 

"I didn't think you'd call," Misha said. 

"I didn't think you'd answer," Jared said, feeling breathless. "I don't have long. My kids are in art class, which ends in less than twenty minutes. The school district only allows half an hour a week, even though there's this foundation that pays for the teacher, the supplies and every expense. Because it's a subject that isn't on the standardized test."

"I'm surprised they allow that even," Misha said. 

Jared heard someone call out, "Dad!" in a shrill, high child's voice, clearly audible over the phone. 

"I don't have long either," Misha said. "Can I call you back tonight?"

"Yeah, sure," Jared agreed. "Yes, please. Looking forward to it."

Jared set his phone down and just stared at until it was time to hurry back to class and teaching his fourth graders the intricacies of multiplying fractions when their minds were too focused on the freedom that was soon coming. If Jared had control over his curriculum, of the schedule of his classes, he would have said to himself, screw math, and he would have taken his charges out of the class and into gym or something. He'd have let them run around like maniacs for a while. If it hadn't been so hot already, he'd take them outside, maybe for a quick hike through the scrub behind the school, looking for bugs and nature. But nature walks were confined to one, carefully planned field trip a year. As it was, these days seemed useless, the butt end of the year. He couldn't remember ever looking forward to the end of school quite this much, not even when he'd been the fourth grader and not the teacher. 

***

Jared scrubbed at his eyes and stood up from paper grading. He was grading the social studies final, mostly multiple choice, of course, but there were a couple of short essay questions. He could hardly concentrate on the crude explanations of checks and balances in the government, some much better than others. He'd been working on this non-stop since he'd gotten home at four-thirty, with only a brief break to take care of the dogs.

It was already past nine and the call hadn't come yet. He was sure it wouldn't come. Right up until the moment that the phone rang. He scrabbled for the phone, where it was (most definitely not) forgotten at the bottom of a pile of light blue exam books. He'd been studiously ignoring it all evening, definitely not willing it to ring with every breath, counting every minute that it didn't.

"Jared?"

"Misha," Jared said, like a sigh, like he could suddenly breathe again when he hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath. 

"I'm sorry. I'm calling later than I thought. It's been a rather long day. It's not just a shearing day, but we have a show we have to get ready for. You always think you're more prepared than you are, right up until the last minute."

"A show?"

"A wool and yarn festival in Indiana. We're taking Sam and a few of the alpacas. And some of the Blue-Faced Leicesters. It's a good opportunity to sell off spare lambs."

Jared had, over the course of their emails, become familiar with the camelids and the rare breed sheep that Misha raised. "Do the llamas and alpacas travel well?"

"They're not the problem. It's the sheep, of course," Misha said. "They're not the brightest creatures. But we're finally set to go. All we have to do in the morning is load the animals. For a while there, I thought my farm sitter had fallen through. Things are worked out finally. But you didn't want to hear about my woes. Have you thought about coming to meet me?" 

"Yes, of course," Jared said. "Yes, I will. I can't wait. When do you want me? School ends on Wednesday and I'll be caught up with grades and the like until Friday, but I can leave any day after that and I'll be free through mid August."

"Any time. As soon as you can come. If there weren't children counting on you, I'd say, forget everything, leave tonight. I can't wait to meet you face to face. So listen, my farm, it's not too far from the Lake of the Ozarks. There are plenty of tourist type places where you could book a room, so we could meet in public first. My daughter says you could be catfishing me. I'm not certain what fishing has to do with anything, but as I don't know what I'm doing, I'm accepting her guidance in this one thing. She says that we have to meet someplace public first."

"I guess that's probably safest," Jared said, even though he was disappointed. He'd almost wanted see the farm as much as meet Misha. He'd grown to adore the place just from Misha's loving, tender descriptions. And he wanted to fall into the man's arms the instant he saw him. The man's sandpaper voice did that to him. "But..."

"You don't want to do the safe thing either, do you?"

"No. I don't. Aren't you worried?"

"That you're some crazy? My kids will be gone, off with their mother for a large part of the summer and I can handle myself."

"No, that we haven't exchanged photos, I. I'm not very good looking. I've not had much luck with men lately, because of it."

"Jared, plain and tall," Misha said, but his voice made it clear he thought Jared must have been anything but. There was a warmth there. "I already know you're the loveliest man to walk this earth."

"But I'm not. I've got this big forehead. My nose is kind of wide and flat. My eyes have a funny shape to them. I'm tall but I'm skinny unless I work really hard at putting on muscle."

"I'm on the scrawny side myself, but none of that matters to me. You are a beautiful person."

"Well, I've got a great personality anyway," Jared said. "None of that will matter if you're not... attracted to me when you see me."

"I'm plenty attracted to you already," Misha said. "Your voice, it's so smooth, like honey. I feel like I could listen to you forever. You could read the phone book at me and it would get me hard."

"My voice is doing that to you?"

"Yes. I hope I'm not being too forward, but your voice is as sexy as hell. It makes me imagine things," Misha said. "Like being on my knees in front of you, as you run your fingers through my hair and..."

Misha had trailed off, hesitant. 

"And what? Tell me what you'd do if you here in front of me," Jared asked, imagining a figure kneeling in front of him. He tried to sound direct and encouraging, a little toppy, but not overwhelmingly so. One thing they hadn't really talked about was sex and Jared hoped to hell that Misha wasn't a top too. Yeah, Jared could bottom, but top was just so much better. He loved to bury himself in a willing partner, to move in them and make them gasp and shudder with pleasure.

"I'd mouth you through your jeans. You'd be breathing a little hard already, a little flushed with arousal. You'd smell wonderful, musky and sweaty from a hard day out in the sun. Your..."

"My what?" Jared encouraged. 

"Your cock. It'd be at that stage where its thickening, just starting to get hard. That's one of my favorite things, to hold a cock in my hand or my mouth and just feel a man's arousal grow. Feel the warmth of the blood rushing in. To see the skin turn from flesh colored to pink or red. I love it when a cock starts to twitch and rise. Like it's coming to life. Well, it's own life."

Jared's cock did just that, filling up. He'd palmed it through the khaki's he'd worn to school that day, adjusted himself a little to be more comfortable. He couldn't believe they were doing this, having phone sex, before they'd even seen pictures of each other. "What's your hair like?" he asked.

"My hair?"

"If I'm picturing running my fingers through it, pulling your face close, I need to know."

"It's brown, dark brown and kind of thick and wavy. And your hair?"

"Medium brown and long."

"Long? How long?"

"Well, long for Texas. It doesn't quite touch my shoulders, but it's close."

Misha kind of chuckled a little, then said, "I'm picturing you, plaid shirt, red maybe, sleeves rolled up, jeans worn just so, to where they're as soft as velvet, just about ready to sprout holes, boots, of course. You do have cowboy boots, right? That's a Texas state law, from what I understand."

Jared tended to wear running shoes regardless of what he was doing, and right now he was wearing his teacher clothes- a yellow polo and khakis, with running shoes. But he was a real Texas boy, so he had boots in his closet. "Yeah, I have boots," he said. "You like boots?"

"Not in particular, except as part of the outfit," Misha said. "As I was saying, jeans, I'm mouthing you through your..."

Then, clear even through the phone, Jared heard, "Dad! You gotta come now!" 

"Hold on. You're supposed to be asleep! It's a big day tomorrow."

"There's something happening in the pasture! I think it's the dogs again."

"I'm sorry, Jared, I've got to go now. I'll try and call back tonight, but I don't know if I can."

"Go," Jared said, containing his sigh. "You deal with what you've got to deal with. I wish I were there to help you."

Jared had learned, from their email exchanges, that Misha worried about three main animal pests- coyotes, of course, and then feral dogs and feral pigs. The boars didn't kill the sheep, but they destroyed property, taking down fences in minutes, which would let the flock escape. The coyotes and the dogs would attack the flocks. The dogs were worse because they would attack as a pack, making it harder for the llama guarding the flock to do her job. 

Meanwhile, thought it was tempting to give it up for the night and deal with his hard on, he had papers awaiting him. The more grading he got done now, the less he would have to deal with later. He ignored his dick, knowing it would go limp soon enough, and attacked the stack of remaining papers with his red pen. He was going to leave for Missouri the soonest moment he possibly could. He needed to meet Misha in person, finally. 

***

It was the end of the second to last day. The kids had already scooped up their papers and bags and gone out in a rowdy crowd to the bus lines and pick up area. He was neatening up his classroom and gathering his things. He'd given the last final today and tomorrow he'd show movies and the kids would play games. He figured if he worked right through, he could get most of the grading done tonight and though the faculty meeting on Friday was mandatory, he could have his grading turned in by then and leave as soon as the meeting was over.

Ms Mercado, the principal, walked right into his room without knocking. "Jared, a moment," she said. It wasn't really a question or request so much as an order. She'd been running the school for over a decade, a benevolent dictator and she expected compliance as naturally as she expected to be able to breathe oxygen. 

"Certainly," he said, straightening up and putting down his bag. 

"No, take a seat," she said, indicating his desk chair. She sat down on the edge of his desk. When he was seated, feeling much like a kid sent to the principal's office, rather than an grown adult teacher speaking with his supervisor, she began. "I notice you haven't returned your signed contract for next year yet."

"I'm sorry, with the end of the year grading, it's kind of slipped my mind. I'll get it to you first thing in the morning," he said. 

"It's just that, you're a fine teacher. You're as competent as they come. You've got dedication to the job, to the kids. Your kids' test scores have risen steadily every year you've been here. But."

She paused. He wanted to snap, "But what?" He controlled himself, waiting. He'd always gotten along with his boss, fine, but he always had the sense that he'd disappointed her, that she'd expected more out of him and he never could figure out what. 

"But you don't love it, do you?"

He couldn't say anything. It was true. He loved kids. He knew he was good enough at his job. But he'd never loved the job. 

"Like I said, you're a fine enough teacher. I'm not firing you. Far from it. You get me that signed contract first thing in the morning and I will accept it. It's hard to find and keep teachers in small town like this. No one wants to live in the middle of nowhere. But I'm asking you to think strongly about if that's really what you want to do. There's another teacher I just spoke with, went to school here years ago, when I was still a teacher. He wants to come home to Marfa and wanted to know if we had a position. It's his home and he wants to be here. 

"Like I said, I'm not firing you. You decide to keep your job, I'll just tell him he was to wait two years until Meredith retires. But I look at you everyday, Jared and I can tell you don't want to be here. Is there someplace else you want to be? Something else you want to be doing?"

He couldn't help but think about the deep emerald hills of Missouri and about Misha and his stupid llamas. The smile that cracked his face wide open was involuntary. 

"My God!" she said. "Look at the dimples on you. You're adorable. I don't think I've ever seen them. Jared, wherever it is that makes you smile like that, you go there. No, it has to be whoever, doesn't it? You'll regret it forever if you don't."

"I can't. It's too soon. I won't have a job," Jared said. 

"Sometimes, you have to take a leap of faith," she said. "Well, good talk. Think hard about what you want. I'll take your contract in the morning if that's what you still want."

***

He'd been waiting for Misha to call him back, ever since they'd had to hang up so quickly and he wondered if that was it, that Misha, too, had thought better of hooking up with him. Once he got back from school, he took care of the dogs and got right to grading. He'd already decided, Misha or not, he was going to the Ozarks, if only for a little while.

At least in a distracted kind of way. He thought about leaving Marfa and where he'd go. Because he knew after talking with Ms. Mercado, that he wouldn't be going back to a new crop of fourth graders in August. He'd be somewhere, maybe in Missouri, maybe not, but he wouldn't be in Marfa. He looked at his small house around him. He'd rented it furnished. He'd always sort of intended to get his own furniture and dishes and such, but never had. It was like this small house had never been home, but just a place he'd been staying. His own possessions were pretty much limited to his personal items and the dog beds. He was pretty sure he could fit it all into the back of his SUV. 

He'd given up grading for packing when the phone finally rang. It wasn't Misha. 

It was his mother. 

"How are you, Sweetie?" she asked. "Last day of school tomorrow, right? You excited?"

"I've still got Thursday and Friday," he said. "Tomorrow is just last day for the kiddos."

"So I know you can't make it to the family Ozarks trip, but I was wondering if you were able to come out for a little while sometime during the summer. It's been so long since we've seen you."

It was actually just Memorial Day weekend, but she made it sound like months, not just a couple of weeks.

"Yeah, I don't know. My plans are kind of up in the air right now. I've got to look for a job and I don't know where I'm going or what kind of job I'm looking for even."

"Jared! They didn't fire you, did they? You're a wonderful teacher," she said. "Did the school board find out you're gay? I thought you said your principal was okay with it."

"I wasn't fired," Jared said. "I decided to quit. I need to take a leap of faith. I have to find out what's going to make me happy and what kind of work I love. I just. This isn't it. There isn't anyone or anything here for me. The kids, they deserve a better teacher than me. They deserve someone who wants to be there more than any place else in the world, rather than anyplace other than here."

"Oh, sweetheart! I know you've been unhappy in Marfa. You know you're always welcome to come home to San Antonio while you find something. It'll have to be easier to find a teaching position here if you're actually here. I'll just talk to your cousin Michael. I'm sure he can get you in as a substitute and that might lead to a permanent position."

"Mom, I'm not going back to teaching and I'm not coming home," he said. "I'm going. Well, there's someone I met on the internet and I'm going to meet him."

"Is that safe?"

He thought about telling her to back off, that he didn't need her to worry about him, that he was a grown man and he didn't need her arranging his life and telling him what he could and couldn't do. But they'd just start fighting. 

"It's fine. We've talked loads on the phone and been emailing each other for months. He's a farmer. We'll meet some place public first. But I can't not go. He's amazing. I think I might be in love."

"I just don't know what to say, Jared."

"That you're happy for me. That you hope things work out for me."

"Well, just be sure you stay...safe. Until you're both tested."

Oh, God! Was his mom, indirectly, telling him to make sure to use condoms?

"So, I gotta go," he said. "I've got a lot of grading in front of me. I'll come later this summer and I'll call."

As soon as he hung up on his mother, the phone rang again. This time, Misha. His voice sounded soft, still raspy, like sand paper, but quiet, and tired sounding. 

"Hey, sorry I never called you back. Things got a little rough last night. It was a coyote pack. We lost three of the lambs and Anna Bobanna got hurt. I ended up canceling the show, the vet was here most of the night and we ended up having," Misha's voice hitched for a moment, as if he wouldn't be able to go on. "In the end, we had to have her put down. She was just too hurt."

Anna Bobanna was the guard llama that had watched over the flock of sheep. Misha was somewhat detached from the sheep, to a lesser extent the alpacas, but the llamas were almost like family to Misha. He loved them like Jared loved his dogs. No doubt he was feeling the same right now as Jared would feel if he had to put Harley or Sadie down. 

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," he said. "I wish there was something I could do. I wish I were there."

"I wish you were here too," Misha said. "But I'm glad at least we can talk on the phone. Your voice, it's very soothing."

"I like listening to your voice too. I wish we could do more than talk. Are your kids okay? They must be torn up about this."

"Death is just a fact of life on a farm. And it's not like Anna was a pet. She was a herd animal. But yes. We're all a bit weepy today. And my ex-wife is furious, because she was supposed to meet us in Indiana to pick up the kids for the summer, but now she'll have to drive all the way to Missouri. She just doesn't understand that I just can't leave with things as they are."

"You need another adult on the farm," Jared said. 

"That I do. One with a strong back and not afraid of hard work. I'm going to be spending most of my summer now upgrading my fencing. I've been thinking about it a while, but this really decides it for me."

"Misha, I'm coming to meet you. For sure. I'm trying to arrange things so I can leave Saturday morning. Google maps says its a fourteen hour drive, but with the dogs, that's going to take longer. So I'll have to spend the night on the road. But I figure I could get there sometime Sunday. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes. Jared, why wouldn't that be okay? Never mind. Just, yes," Misha said. "I can't wait for you to get here and get your hands on me."

***

"Bye Mr. Jared!" Minnie Smith called out. She was the last kid in his class room. She was bright and loved school, but physically, she was chubby and slower than the other kids. She might have been the only one in the class than hadn't wanted the year to end. She moseyed out the door and he spent a moment shoving the cards and few small end of the year gifts he'd gotten into his bag, along with the last few papers to grade. He'd stayed up late, late last night, in a grading marathon after he was done speaking with Misha. He'd be done with everything by later this afternoon, and then he could start arranging to get out of Marfa for good. 

He couldn't know for sure that he'd still be in Missouri come September, but he knew for sure that he wouldn't be here. Everything packed up, he walked out the door, not quite for the last time. There was tomorrow for packing up his room, and the faculty meeting on Friday. He'd already talked to his principal this morning, letting her know that he wouldn't be back. 

Before heading home, he drove to the downtown office of his landlord, a short, round woman named Lupe. He'd been dropping his check off here once a month for the last five years and she never failed to have a smile for him, though their good relationship seemed predicated on the fact that he had that check to her before the first of the month, every time. He waited until she was finished with her phone call, and then explained that not only wouldn't he be renewing his lease come August, he was going to be ducking out early. June was already paid.

"I'm sure I can figure out how to get you July's rent," he told her, apologetically.

"Don't worry," she said. "You paid first and last months' when you signed, Anyway, this is good news. Very good news."

At his confused look, she said, "Marfa got another write up in Martha Stewart Living and it'll be in Country Living next month. This place is starting to crawl with tourists. I can rent your place by the week to the tourists for way more than you're paying me now. Jared, I hope you find the place you belong more than here. You never put roots down here, did you?"

"I guess I didn't."

"Where you going next, sweetie? You find a job in the big city?"

"No, I'm going to Missouri first, after that, who knows."

***

It was Saturday night and he'd been on the road most of the day. For now, he was lying in bed in a strange motel in Oklahoma, a couple of hours past Oklahoma City. A room with two queens was all that had been available. The beds were covered in purple crushed velvet. The floor was same kind of vinyl tile they used in school hallways, in a red and black check pattern. Despite the fact that he'd turned on every single light switch and lamp, the room was still dark. Like dark as night dark with little puddles of light here and there. It was like it was from the set of some horror show, but it was the only place he'd found that would take the dogs. It wasn't that it was dirty, but he'd never see it if it was, would he? Still, it was this or sleep in his SUV at the side of the road. And his truck was just too full of his stuff to pull the seats down and sleep. As he'd predicted, everything he owned, other than the treadmill, fit into SUV, with some room to spare. The treadmill he'd sold to someone on Facebook at half what it was worth, just to get rid of it quickly.

He was lying, staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep and failing. Sadie and Harley had taken over the other queen bed, and he'd let them, even though the manager had warned him against letting them get up on the furniture. He didn't care. They were better mannered than most people he knew. He wondered what the hell he was doing, leaving his life of the past five years behind, to gamble on being happy with a man he'd known only a few months, only spoken with on the phone and only a few times at that. 

As if to answer his question, his phone rang. Misha. 

"Hey," he said, answering. "So, I'm on the road, like I said. I'm stopped for the night in Oklahoma. The motel is really weird. The bed spread is this purple velvet. The walls are red and there's all these tassels and crap everywhere."

Misha chuckled, "Sounds like someone's idea of sexy."

"Yeah, it's kind of french whorehouse meets Psycho," Jared said. "I'm glad I'll just be here the one night. I should be there at Breezy Point by tomorrow afternoon."

"I saw my kids off today. Their mom picked them up, so I'm alone," Misha said. "I'm ready for your visit."

Jared had decided, even though he wanted to drive right out to Misha's farm, to get a hotel room, and had a reservation for a spot on the Lake of the Ozarks, less than twenty miles from Misha's farm, which was just outside a small town called Climax Springs. There was a restaurant at the resort they would meet at. 

"So, the other night, before I was interrupted, I believe I was telling you how you'd be running your fingers through my hair, and I'd be mouthing you through your jeans."

"Oh. Oh!" Jared said, feeling his cock stir, become thick, interested. "Yeah. Your short, wavy hair. God, it'd feel so good, your mouth on me, even through fabric. I'd get hard fast, my cock straining against my zipper, eager to get out and feel your touch directly."

"But not just yet," Misha said. "You'd walk across the room, and sit down on the bed and I'd follow you. Kneel in front of you again and I'd help you get your boots off. Pull them off you one by one. I'd love how much taller you'd be than me with them, but they'd have to come off."

"God, the thought of you, doing that," Jared said, starting to rub himself through the boxers he'd worn to sleep.

"Once your boots are off, then obviously, your jeans have to come off. Slowly, though. Maybe just off enough for your cock to stick out. Tell me about your cock. What's it like?"

"It's cut," Jared said, tracing the ridge of the head with a finger tip through the cloth. He pulled his shorts down completely, freeing himself. He grabbed himself and started stroking, slow and steady. "About seven and a half inches, but thick. It kind of curves a little to the right."

"Once I've got your cock out, I'd lick a stripe up the underside, slowly. Linger a while at the head, roll my tongue around it. Savor it like it was candy. I'd nibble, just gently, all around the corona."

Jared groaned at the thought. "Oh, God, that's."

"When you can't take another moment of that, I'd swallow you down deep. As deep as I can. Get my nose right into your hair, smell your musk."

"Jesus," Jared whispered. His cock grew rock hard in his grip and he couldn't stop himself from bucking into his own hand, imagining it was a wet and willing mouth, that his palm was the back of Misha's throat. "Its this turning your on as much as it me. Are you touching yourself for me? Got your hand on your cock? Rubbing and pulling on it?"

"No," Misha said. "But I've two fingers in my ass, spreading it, working myself open for you, trying to reach that spot. You know the one. It's been too long for me and I want to be ready for you when you get here."

When Misha said that, something in Jared exploded. His hips shook and something electrical traveled up and down his body, contracting everything and slowing time down into a one extended, incredible moment. His moan might just have been louder and higher than he'd intended. He coated his belly with stripes of come, pearly in the dim light, stripping his cock until he'd milked the last of it. He let himself collapse against the pillow again, breathing hard. Misha chuckled lightly on the other end of the line, obviously delighted at having made him come.

He wiped his fingers on his boxers and tried to get it together, and not fall asleep immediately. He needed to see that Misha got off too. "So you're getting yourself ready for my cock? Spreading yourself open for me."

Misha breathed heavily. "Yeah."

"You know, I don't want you too ready for me. I want to open you up myself. When I get there, I'm going to drape your legs over my shoulders and I'm going to spread you open. I'm going to eat your ass out. I'm going to lick and tongue you until you're wet, soaked. Until your hole is soft and needy for me. It's going to be so good you forget who you are, where you are. Is that what you want?"

"Yes," Misha moaned. "Oh. Jared."

"Then, I'm going to fuck you open on my cock. I want to see you come undone for me. I want to see your body stretch and make way for me. I want to see you so full of me that you can't speak, because it feels so good. And you've got your fingers inside you now, because you can't wait for me. You fucking yourself on them for me right now?"

"Yeah," Misha said. He sounded further way, the background noise of the call more echoey. Jared figured he'd been put on speaker phone so that Misha would have both hands for tending to himself. "Oh. yeah."

"You going to come on my cock? Is that what you like best? Are you a slut for a thick cock, Mish?"

Then Misha groaned, sputtered out, "Coming."

Jared imagined his farmer, the way the come would splash over his lean body, alone in bed, hair tousled. He'd be breathing heavy for a moment, arm across his forehead to wipe away the sweat that must have gathered on his brow. 

Misha laughed softly, then said, "That was fantastic. I can't wait until you're here for real."

"Tomorrow," Jared promised. 

"Tomorrow."

They stayed on the phone for a long while after that, whispering at each other about nothing important and everything else. Jared could listen to Misha talk, happily, forever, he thought. He fell asleep talking on the phone. One minute Misha was describing the kind of stock panels he'd bought to make a secure pen for the lambs at night. 

The next, it was morning. Bright blades of light cut through cracks in the blackout curtains. Light somehow made this motel room more creepy than less. Harley as the door whining and pawing at it and Sadie was nudging his hand. He groaned and grabbed a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. He winced when he realized he'd fallen asleep with his come still sticky across his belly. He took care of his own business in the only slightly scuzzy bathroom, then took the dogs out for theirs. A quick shower and he was on the road less than hour later. 

He'd already covered Texas and nearly the whole state of Oklahoma yesterday, but even so it seemed like this part of the trip was endless. The landscape seemed to grow greener and more lush with every hour at the wheel, until finally, he was driving alongside a lake and he was nearly there. 

He'd arrived at the resort nearly an hour ahead of schedule, because of his early start. He checked into his room, took the dogs for a run to tire them out. He'd gotten a small cabin right on the lake, a small stone path separating it from the resorts private beach, though there was a second door that backed right onto the parking lot too. 

Jared and the dogs ran on a path along the lake shore and he was able to enjoy the kind of day promised in all those tourist photos, with the perfect cotton candy clouds and deep blue sky. The woods were every bit as verdant as promised and it seemed like heaven after being in the depths of Texas for so long. It reminded him of hill country in Texas, but even more lush, more green. He knew that wherever he ended up, he could never go back a place like Marfa, in what was basically desert. The dogs splashed into the lake, in pursuit of some animal, maybe a duck, and he just laughed as they floundered about for a bit and quickly gave up on their prey in favor of play. He'd eventually had to shuck off his shoes and wade in after them, haul them out by their collars. 

Back at the room, he showered again, but not before giving the dogs a quick wash and dry. The dogs glowered at him from the dog beds he'd hauled in from the car. They were unhappy to have had the baths, but they'd found mud by the lake and had themselves a good roll, so it couldn't be avoided. 

"Don't give me that look, puppy," he told Harley as he toweled his hair dry. "You stank and you know it. I can't have you embarrassing me. Unless this goes terribly, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be bringing him back to the room, so you two have to be on your best behavior."

He dressed as carefully as he would for any special occasion or job interview. Only he'd spent far more time agonizing over this outfit than he would have for either of those. He'd picked out, then discarded each pair of the jeans he owned at least three times before finally settling on his oldest pair, the ones that were faded pale and worn soft. They'd already grown one small hole on the back pocket where he kept his wallet. For boots, he'd picked out a well worn pair with minimal embroidery and a squared off toe, something that looked more like a work boot than a dress boot. As for the shirt, well, he didn't have a red plaid like Misha had mentioned, so he'd gone out and bought one. He'd washed it several times so it didn't look brand new. 

Clothes on, hair dried, he stood in front of the mirror and fussed. He rolled his sleeves up just so, then pulled them down again several times before finally settling on rolled up. He finger combed his hair out a dozen times. He shaved. Again. Just to be sure. Only then did he realize he was so nervous that he thought he might be sick, but it was finally time to go to the restaurant he was supposed to meet Misha in. 

He walked across the resort to main building near the restaurant. There in front, looking out over the lake, on one of the many benches, sat a dark haired man. He wore a light chambray workshirt with his jeans and a pair of gold rimmed aviator sunglasses. He was gorgeous and his hair was deliciously rumpled. His face grew hair that had gone beyond stubble but wasn't quite a full fledged beard yet. 

And Jared just knew. This was Misha. 

When the man pulled off his sunglasses, stood up and turned to face Jared, it was like the whole world shifted around its axis, like everything from that moment changed. His whole world was different now and it always would be. The only conscious thought he had was, "This is it. That is the man I am going to marry."

Misha smiled and Jared was felled by it. Misha's smile was huge and toothy, showing off the gums above his teeth. His cheeks grew wide and round. His blue, blue eyes were surrounded by crow's feet. 

"Jared?" he asked. Jared was struck too dumb to do more than nod. 

When the man hurried to him, he opened his arms though. Misha stepped into his embrace and lifted his face. It was the most natural thing in the world to bend his face down and touch his lips to Misha's. Never mind that they were in public, it just felt right. God, but he towered over his farmer, by a good five, six inches. It wasn't that Misha was short, but he was about average and it pounded in just how much taller than average Jared was. 

When they broke apart, Misha gasped in a little breath, then said, "You are one tall drink of water. You weren't kidding about that, but you aren't plain in the slightest. You're gorgeous."

They were still standing close to each other, close enough that Jared could feel Misha's arousal. He slipped his hands down so they rested at Misha's waist and pulled him a little closer, just a hug. 

"So, you want to go get lunch now?" he asked. 

"No," Misha said. He spoke softly into Jared's ear, almost a whisper. "I want you to take me back to your room."

"Oh. Okay."

So he forced himself away from Misha's warm body and turned back towards the room. Misha followed him, grabbing a small duffle from the bench. The distance back to his rented cottage was mercifully short and in a moment, he was letting Misha into the room. Misha looked around the room and dropped his bag on a night stand. Jared locked the door behind them and glanced nervously around. The dogs, thankfully, were still in their beds, though Harley woke up enough to give him a resentful glare, still mad about his bath, no doubt. But he rolled around in his bed and resettled himself with a whumpf and a sigh. 

Then Misha was on him, mouth eager and needy. He backed Jared up to the bed, until the mattress was against the back of Jared's knees. But he was just as needy in response. He let himself collapse onto the bed, pulling Misha down with him, their lips not separating once. Misha let Jared's tongue in, no, sucked it in eagerly. 

They didn't talk. No words were needed. Instead, everything he needed to say, just this once, his body said for him. Misha wasn't entirely silent, but had a repertoire of soft moans and gasps that served nicely to express just how much he loved it when Jared rolled over on top of him, then, somewhat later, when Jared slid down his body, kissing and licking his neck. Misha tasted and smelled salty with sweat and like hay and a warm summer day in a pasture. His shirt was fastened with those pearl snaps, so Jared just tore it open.

Misha's chest was just lightly sprigged with curly, dark chest hair. His nipples were small, dusky brown. Jared couldn't resist a little nip at one on his way down. His torso was well muscled, the kind of defined tone you got from hard work. He had a gorgeous little treasure trail that led down to Jared's goal. Jared worked his way down, feeling Misha's six pack with his tongue, trailing his hands over the muscled vee that pointed the way down. Misha's jeans and work boots were disposed of with his squirming help and soon he was naked on the bed, spread open. His cock was already hard, weeping with little pearly drops of pre-come. 

"Roll over," Jared suggested, and Misha did. His ass was round, muscled. His whole body was hard, made that way by long days of physical labor. This was the body of a farmer, someone who spent his days tossing bales and making fences. It was the body of someone who could easily manhandle a seventy pound sheep for shearing. It was the body of someone who spent their days making and doing.

He spread Misha's cheeks and revealed the delicate pucker between them. It was dusky, dark pink and lightly haired. The hair spread over everything. Jared was grateful. It wasn't that he wanted a yeti or anything, but he was just always turned off by guys who shaved down there. Jared remembered his promise to eat Misha out until he was begging, until his ass was soft and ready for Jared's cock. He knelt on the bed between Misha's legs and pulled the man closer. He grabbed hold of Misha's cock first, not jacking it, just holding it loosely. He licked Misha's pucker, tongue flat, just lightly. Misha whimpered slightly and his cock twitched in Jared's hand. Encouraged, his own cock twitching in sympathy, Jared delved again, more firmly, still not trying for entrance, but spreading spit around generously. 

Misha tasted of salt and a clean-scented soap and smelled a little of the musk that always lingered in a man's pubic hair. His few gay friends, from back in college, had questioned his taste for this particular act, calling it gross, but Jared loved it. He loved seeing his partner come undone, like Misha was now, as he laved their hole. He loved how even the most nervous, tense partner would relax and open under his ministrations. He loved how soft the skin was down there. He pulled Misha tighter to his face and burrowed a little deeper, just trying to stick the tip of his tongue into. Misha opened up easily to his careful explorations.

Misha was muttering imprecations under his breath, lost in the sensation. He started to thrash a little, as if he was about to come. Jared backed off and laid a heavy hand on the base of Misha's spine. "Easy. We're just getting started here."

"God, I need you. Need your cock in me."

"Since you asked so nicely, of course. But we're going to take a while getting there," Jared said. 

And he took his time exploring, alternating between the flat of his tongue dragged across and pointing his tongue, digging in, opening up Misha in the most gentle way he knew how, laving him with spit. Misha whined and tried to buck against Jared's face, but Jared just wrapped his hands more firmly onto Misha's hips, holding him still. They seemed huge against Misha's body. He thought about letting Misha come, wondering if that would calm him, but Jared wanted to make this, what he hoped was the first of many, many time, spectacular. He wanted to draw it out as long as he could. When Misha seemed to quiver in impatience, Jared added a finger, just drawing it around the ring of muscle, working it in so slowly and patiently. 

The actual intercourse, when they got to it, was brief and intense. Their coupling was fast and hard, neither of them able to hold off any longer. And yes, protected by a condom. Misha spilled over the fist Jared had wrapped around his cock and Jared into latex. Jared let Misha's legs down from his shoulders, to wrap around his waist. They held each other tight, grappling arms around the other, and breathed heavily for a moment. Jared thought he might have seen tears on the other man's cheeks but that easily could have been sweat. They had to disengage long enough for Jared to carefully pull out, grasping the condom at the base. He skinned it off quickly, tied it off and tossed it into the trash, then threw his arms around Misha again, sniffing him in the crook of his neck. 

They held each other like that for what seemed like hours, forever. They might have drifted asleep in each others arms as the afternoon drifted towards evening. The shadows were long and purple across the room's beige carpet when they woke again. 

He thought it might be awkward, waking up with someone like this, who was both stranger and yet, well known and loved already. It wasn't. Jared just pulled him closer into the small spoon and Misha nuzzled back.

"I should go soon," he said.

"There must be so much to do," Jared said, picturing chores, feeding the stock, rounding them up for the night. 

"Jared," Misha murmured. "Come home."

Not come home with me. But come home, as if he considered that the farm was already Jared's home. 

"Yeah. Ok," Jared said. 

And that was that.


End file.
